


Down Time

by 13HoursInWonderland



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Just for Laughs, Short & Sweet, Unless you want to see them, no ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6805732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13HoursInWonderland/pseuds/13HoursInWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three little fics inspired by two word prompts. All under 2000 word. <br/>1~State Fair<br/>2~Beach Attire<br/>3~Drunk Dial</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Natasha Romanoff agreed to accompany Clint Barton and his family (her family, as she was so often reminded by both Clint and Laura) to the state fair this is not what Nat had been expecting. On some level yes she had anticipated the typical bizarreness that came with the American carnival-ish tradition and she really hadn't been let down. The day thus far had been a cluster of food eating contests, weird things on sticks, massive barns packed with livestock and even a tractor pull show. Yet this, Nat concluded, took the cake. And that was impressive considering the fact that Natasha had come to terms with some strange things in her life. (Including but not limited to super-human men and woman, a Norse “god” with a god complex, alien armies, and a psychopathic robot hell bend on destroying everything.)

  
After a minute of blindly staring the woman was almost willing to, despite (or maybe in spite of) everything she'd witnessed as both an assassin or an avenger, labeling this as the most bizarre thing she'd ever faced. Her mind certainly was having a more difficult time wrapping itself around this, for one reason or another, then anything the red room had even trained her for.

  
As the spy raised an eyebrow at what stood displayed before her she felt Clint snicker next to her. She spared him a slide-ways glance in time to witness her best friend stifle an impish smirk. In that moment Natasha's hand twitched with an urge to throw her partner through the display glass in front of them, if only to remind him of how dangerous it was to laugh at her expense. His only saving grace, she told herself as she willed her muscles to relax a twinge of irritation, was the presence of his wife and children not two feet from him.

  
“Ignore him.” Laura whispered from Nat's other side, easily noticing the silent exchange between the two. “Once we pass by the carnival games he'll get so distracted by the darts booth we can sneak away for a while. There is a wine tasting event that I'm sure you and I can enjoy for maybe an hour before he gets kicked out for winning too much.”

  
At this Natasha graced Clint's wife with an appreciative grin. Like Nat, Laura was good at what she does. The only difference being Natasha was good at kicking ass and Laura was good at being a wife, mother and every bit the girlfriend Nat never had before Shield came along. The other woman really didn't get enough credit for putting up with the pair of them. Natasha made a mental note then to win her best friend's wife the biggest teddy bear she could find before they left Clint to single handily manage the couples funnel-cake hyped children and carnival game workers.

  
“So, impressive isn't it.” The archer pressed his luck, apparently ignorant to the plotting whispers being made on Natasha's other side. Obviously he was enjoying himself a bit too much, barley containing laughter as he teased. “I mean to hell with the Mona Lisa! This, this is a work of art!”

  
Natasha rolled her eyes at her friend's enthusiasm after sharing a knowing look with Laura.

  
“It's a cow.” Natasha stated plainly, not wanting to encourage the growing amusement on Clint's expression too much. Though she did hummer him with a tilt of her head as if the slightly altered angle could make Clint’s previous taunt a tiny bit accurate.

  
“It's not just any cow! It's a cow sculpted entirely out of butter!”


	2. Beach Attire

Wanda scowled grimly at her mirrored reflection, as if the force of her glare would transform it into something more agreeable. For the little she knew of her powers, it very possibly might be something she was capable of. Taking in the image of the girl standing before her, she briefly considered it, but only just.

  
Letting out a sigh of defeat, Wanda settled for merely muttering a quiet sting of Russian curses at her reflection. She was not about to play with her powers just to alter her attire into something she found more respectable; there was something about that idea that just screamed pathetic. Besides, even if she did magic herself up a whole closet worth of swimming costumes, Wanda doubted she'd be any happier with her prospects.

  
Frowning, the girl pressed her back into wall opposite the full length mirror. Outside, beyond tiny changing room she was very determined not to leave, Wanda could hear the cheerful cacophony of cries as her teammates enjoyed their beach vacation. Undoubtedly, Sam Wilson had lured his fellow Avengers into the most intense game of volleyball, or water wars, or what have you, that the world had ever seen. Yet, not even the prospect of fun was enough to motivate Wanda to emerge from her hiding spot.

  
It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time with her new comrades. After all, Wanda had been welcomed among the "Earth's mightiest" after her home's fall (as opposed to being locked away like the villain she sometime felt that she'd been). The group, for all their differences of opinions, had thus far been very friendly and hospitable... supportive even. It would normally be a pleasure to spend a leisurely day with the people that treated her so warmly when they had every reason not to... but Wanda absolutely refused to spend any time with anyone looking like this.

  
Honestly, she didn't know how Natasha Romanov could wear that sleek black swim suit she'd shown up in so confidently. (With its sides cut out and that very deep plunging neckline.) Wanda was having a hard enough time making an appearance wearing a relatively modest one piece. Even after she'd thrown a lacy overlay atop the garment, she still felt moderately naked.  
With this now circling in the girl's head she cursed again loudly, all the while glaring grudgingly at her reflection. This time she only made it half way through line of her (rather creative) profanities before a familiarly calm voice interrupted.

  
“Wanda?”

  
The girl paused mid-oath, the utterance of her own name stiffening her already tense muscles. Groaning, Wanda swore, internally this time, at her luck. Of course, her inner voice hissed at her, of course her companions would eventually send someone to check on her. They were a team after all, and teammates look out for each other, both on and off the battle field, according to Captain Rogers.

  
“Vision.” Wanda grumbled in greeting once she'd had a moment to gain her composure. “I suppose you're here to collect me.”  
To the girl's surprise there was a very audible pause on the other side of the door. Perhaps, Wanda tried to reason uncomfortable silence away, the android was trying to determine the best method to coax her onto the beach. Yet, after several minutes had passed without another word, Wanda began to wonder if her tone had offended him.

  
“Vision?”

  
Concern over the prolonged silence found Wanda inching towards her stall's swinging door. Unlatching it, Wanda peeked out through a small gap and saw only sand, and sun and water. Emboldened, she inched the door opened a bit more, and braved a half step beyond the threshold.

  
Just as she managed to venture a second foot beyond changing room, the disembodied voice of the artificial man quietly said, "No one has sent me to collect you.”

  
Wanda, who had become increasingly uneasy by growing silence, visibly jumped at noise. For a few startled seconds the girl tried to get her heart back to a regular rhythm, before spinning to face direction of voice.

 

Much to her surprise, the only thing that greeted her was the door of stall adjacent to one she had been holding up in. The team's resident android nowhere to be seen.

  
There was another brief pause, before Vision's voice, somewhat muffled, elaborated from opposite side of door across from her's. “I, in fact, have not made it onto the beach yet. As much as I'd like to join the others in their merriment, I find that I'm not altogether comfortable with beach attire.”

  
Wanda blinked at this, stunned. The Vision was feeling self-conscious about his appearance? Something about such an idea, which went against everything Wanda had learned about the artificial man sense his creation, brought a tiny smile to her face. Of all things in the human world to make him shy, it was a swimsuit?

  
And with that, it was as if she was seeing her own problems in a different light. Suddenly, all Wanda wanted to do was entice the android out of his shell and into the world. To hell with how she felt or looked along the way.

  
“Vision.” Wanda said softly, daring a soft knock on his door. When he remained quiet on his side, the girl repeated herself, more boldly this time. “Vision- Come on Vizh. If you're going to act like a baby I might as well make you think you are one. Besides if we don't make an appearance, eventually Captain Rogers will send the Widow to find us, and we both know that simply will not end well.”

  
Wanda stood, waiting in silence for a few seconds before she was rewarded with the sound of a lock clicking out of place. She grinned triumphantly at her small victory. Her expression, however, waned a bit as the door took much longer to swing open than strictly necessary. Eventually though, The Vision stood before her, finally revealing himself in all his red and silver glory. His cape and normal attire was gone, and in its place was a simple pair of bright blue swim trunks. They were polka-dotted with little green palms trees that though cute, looked mildly absurd on the android.

  
“I'm afraid I look ridiculous.” He voiced with a frown, glancing down at her as she found herself fighting back a blush that was threatening to color her skin at his unusual (yet surprisingly adorable) appearance.

  
Was it odd that she found all that scarlet skin and his vibranium plates to be so... fascinating? She thought as she worked to compose herself. Blushing now might give the wrong impression to the already flustered android and cause him to flee back to the relative safety of his dressing room.

  
“Come on,” The girl managed to say after a moment, holding out her hand to the artificial man in what she hoped was an encouraging gesture, “you look no more ridiculous then I do.”

  
Vision simply looked at her oddly at this, as if she'd just told him that Thor had decided to take up polka dancing. He searched her expression carefully, looking for any sign of deceit, before slowly turning his uncertain eyes to her proffered hand.  
“It is in my personal opinion-” He finally, hesitantly, spoke. Vision took her hand then, ever so gingerly, almost shyly. “- that you, Wanda, could never look ridiculous.”


	3. Drunk Dial

It is 1:25 in the morning Steve realizes as he turns over in bed to glare at his nightstand, his cell phone buzzing with a life of its own. It is 1:25 in the morning as Steve groans with irritation, calculating he has only been in bed for seventeen minutes. It is 1:25 in the morning and he was just starting to feel a not-quite-awake drowsiness taking over. It is1:25 in the morning on July 5th, therefore America's birthday (and his as well, ironically enough) should officially be over.

  
It is now 1:26 in the morning and his phone, despite his best efforts to ignore it, is still vibrating on his night stand like some small hyperactive animal who drank one espresso too many.

  
It is 1:27 in the morning when Steve throws his sheet aside, sits up and pulls his phone off of charging cord with a muffled sigh of defeat.

  
"Tony,-" Steve huffs his obvious annoyance into phone after accepting the call. He doesn't even bother checking the caller ID, because who else would be calling Captain America on his private phone this early the day after he turned 97? No one other than Tony Stark. "- I already told you, I'm not up for an after party. Or an after-after party!"

  
The only answer to the man's aggravated tone was muffled clinking of glasses, the blare of a far off sound system and heavy inebriated chattering. Tony was apparently, as to be expected in all honesty, still out partying.

  
"Listen," Steve started up again after several seconds of listening only to background noise, "I may be a 'super boy scout', as you once so creatively put it, but I'm still human. Humans need sleep the last I checked and I'm too tired-"

  
"Hap~ happy birthday~ Captain America!"

  
Cut off mid-sentence the man froze, his grip subconsciously tightening on his phone. He couldn't have just heard that voice, Steve reasoned, despite his gut twisting with something other than doubt. He must be more asleep than he thought or else someone was playing a very cruel birthday prank...but Steve knew that voice.

  
Steve whipped the phone around to check its screen. Unfortunately, it did nothing to reassure him as LOCAL: UNLISTED flashed brightly up into his sleep-deprived vision. So he returned device to his ear, feeling completely awake now, if not entirely all together with it.

  
"Who is this?" He demanded, using his stern 'superior officer' voice. It came in handy for getting answers very quickly almost every time. But apparently it wouldn't work tonight, because all Steve got in response was a drunkenly flat tone singing at him.  
"Happy birthday~ Happy birthday~ Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you~”

  
For a second all the man could do was sit blinking at the darkness of his bedroom, listening to a rather slurred version of the birthday song being performed for him. Ridiculous as it sounded (in more ways than one) as the song went on Steve's sense of familiarity grew. This could not be a joke, because he knew that voice. He would know that voice even if it was fumbling its way through a one verse song about birthdays.

  
"~Happy birthday Captain Steven Will~Always~Be~A~Punk Rogers! Happy birthday to you!"

  
"Is that really you?" Was all Steve could manage to utter once the singing subsided. It was all he could dare himself to ask, if that voice on the other end of connection really was who he thought it was. "Bucky?"

  
"When Captain America throws his mighty shield~"

  
Without missing a beat, the person on other end of line started up again. This time choosing to belt the theme from a 1960s cartoon based on Captain America's heroics. Yet, as Steve listened to this verse, he caught the subtle difference in pitch. Even though voice on the other end of call was very much three sheets to the wind, it almost sounded slightly panicked. It was quite possible that Bucky only continued to sing in a desperate effort to avoid an actual conversation.

  
"~All those who oppose his shield must yield!"

  
"Bucky!" Steve attempted to interject before another lyric could begin. He was already out of bed, pulling on his boots, grabbing his shield, and heading for his apartment's front door, socks and shirt be dammed! Even if he had to search every bar in Brooklyn tonight only clad in sweatpants and his shield, it would be worth it if it meant finding his old friend. "Where are you?"

  
"If he's let to a fight and a duel is due~"

  
"Bucky tell me where you are!"

  
"Then the red and the white and the blue will come through!"

  
"I've been looking for you for two years Buck and this is how you want our first conversation to go?! How am I supposed to talk when you keep interrupting me! You sound like a dying cat!"

  
As he approached his front door Steve's voice snapped, his hand grabbing onto the threshold with such force he dented the knob. "Shup up you jerk or I'm not going to tell you it's all my fault!"

  
This managed to earn the man a moment of respite as the drunk slurring stumbled to an abrupt halt.

  
"Everything that has happened to you since 1945 has been all my fault." Steve spoke quickly. It had been two years since he last saw Bucky. Two long years of chasing cold leads and searching under every goddamn stone that looked as if it could hide a super soldier with a metal arm. At this rate, it would be another two years before Captain America heard from James Buchanan Barnes and he was not going to waste this chance to say what needed to be said.

  
"I should have gone looking for you, okay? After the train, after you fell. Even though I thought you were gone, I should have gone looking for what was left of you. I know should-haves aren't worth much right now, but you need to know that. I shouldn't have just assumed that Hydra was done for either. 'Real evil never truly dies' or something like that. I should have looked into it after waking up. Should have come across something that would have hinted at what became of you, but I didn’t... I didn't and I have never been more so-"

  
"Steve."

  
Steve stalled at the sound of his name being uttered with such force. For a solid minute there was mostly silence on the line, except for very loud, audibly uneven breaths coming from the other side. Then Bucky spoke in a rush, as if a dam had broken loose.

  
"Bananas aren't the same anymore. I don't like it." Before Steve could even process what had been said, there was a resounding click as the call was disconnected.

  
Steve stared mutely at the screen for several moments, trying to come to terms with what just happened. The time read 1:34 in the morning.

  
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long suffering sigh before throwing his apartment door open and dashing outside. He was going to have to run seriously fast if he wanted to check every Brooklyn bar before last call.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who is unaware Hawkeye is originally from Iowa (as am I!) and one of the highlights of the Iowa State Fair... is a life size cow sculpted out of butter...


End file.
